


Burning Wood

by KateDoesntExist



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dream Sequence, M/M, beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateDoesntExist/pseuds/KateDoesntExist
Summary: After the war Newt and Hermann vacation on the beach and roast marshmallows over a fire.





	1. Staring into Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Basilintime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basilintime/gifts), [IDoNotBiteMyThumbAtYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IDoNotBiteMyThumbAtYou/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for IDoNotBiteMyThumbAtYou who requested the prompt "Gritty eyes when you stare into fire too long"

“C’mon, Herm! I’ve almost got a fire ready. Get out the marshmallows,” Newton called from further up the beach where he was gathering driftwood.

It was January, 2026, exactly one year after the end of the war. Newton had been adamant about commemorating the occasion somewhere warm and remote, so the two found themselves on an isolated island in the Maldives, sunset turning the receding tide into alternating splashes of turquoise, violet and orange.

Earlier in the afternoon Hermann had been reluctant to swim, gesturing to his cane with his eyes in an almost comical fashion when Newton suggested it. But with some coaxing and a lot of leaning and handholding, he made it to the water’s edge, then into the warm, gentle sea. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been in the ocean. Perhaps not since he was a child. He floated there, rising and falling with the lazy Indian Ocean waves, salt water and memories washing over him. It felt good to just let go and drift.

Eventually the sun started to set and the two retreated back to the sandy shore. It wasn’t long before Newton began to forage for driftwood and rocks to craft a makeshift fire pit.

“Nailed it! See? I told you I could light a fire without matches. I might as well be the next Bear Grylls,” Newton beamed. Hermann smiled back and made no mention of the fifty plus strikes and handful of swears it apparently took Newton to get the flint and steel he’d brought to spark.

Hermann reached into the picnic basket that sat at the base of the folding beach chair he was reclining in and produced a bag of marshmallows and two skewers.

The sun set fast, and after gorging on far too many sweets (many of which Newton intentionally burnt to a crisp before eating), Hermann held his skewer in the flames, burning off the remaining marshmallow goo while staring into the center of the fire, hot and bright. “Newton,” he murmured. “This past year feels like a dream.”

“It’s a good dream, I hope,” Newton replied with a cautious laugh.

“Indeed, a good dream. But one that I keep fearing I shall awake from. How is it real that you and I are here, right now in this very moment together?” Hermann worked his jaw, almost lost in thought, but didn’t look up to meet Newton’s eyes. “We peered into the Anteverse and lived to tell. With the way those monsters are networked through thought, we may have been more present in their reality than even Ranger Becket was. So how can we possibly assume that there are no repercussions? It’s almost as if we’ve done something we ought not have, and we don’t deserve any of the peace that comes to us. I can’t shake this feeling, Newton.”

Newton stared at Hermann, who in turn kept his eyes glued on the fire as he absently continued to rotate his skewer in the flames.

“Hermann, I didn’t know you felt this way,” Newton said tenderly. “But it’s been a year. Don’t you think we’d notice if something was off by now? I think we’re in the clear. Plus, we do deserve this. We deserve to be together, and to be happy. Now that means you, and that means me. Got it?”

Newton waited for a response, but Hermann didn’t reply. With a quiet, frustrated grunt, he got up and dragged his chair close enough that it clunked against Hermann’s, jostling his attention away from the fire just in time to see Newton reaching in for a kiss.

Hermann breathed into it, finding comfort in their closeness. It was wordless and effortless and timeless. It didn’t get rid of the low, vibrating feeling of dread that he’d been too afraid to speak until that moment, but it certainly soothed it. They pulled apart from the kiss softly and slowly, Newton’s hand sliding away from where it caressed Hermann’s neck. For a brief moment Hermann felt a tug of loss at the feeling, but was reassured when their fingers found each other and intertwined. They looked into each other’s eyes.

“Oh shit, Hermann. Are you crying? I’m sorry!” Newton blurted out worriedly.

“Huh? Am I?” Hermann asked, more to himself than to Newton. He rubbed at his eyes, which were watering quite a bit. “Ah, no. I believe I just looked into the fire a bit too long. I’m fine, really.” He laughed gently to set Newton at ease as he wiped away the forming tears.

“Okay good,” Newton said tentatively, eyeing Hermann. Then he perked up, pulling two wine glasses out of the picnic basket. “Because guess what. This isn’t just a day to remember our fallen brethren and how we’re all heroes who ended the war. Today we also celebrate my new job at Shao Industries.”

Newton filled both their glasses, which they clinked together in the dying light of the fire and a million stars. “To new beginnings, my man.”

Hermann smiled sweetly. “To new beginnings.”


	2. The Smell of Burning Wood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Basilintime who requested prompt "The smell of burning wood"

Newton’s mind had been in and out after he was brought back to the Moyulan shatterdome. Some days the Newton Geiszler-shaped thing laughed like a maniac, screaming threats at the ever present eye of the surveillance camera with promises of corruption and terror to all humankind until his voice was raw. Other days he sat quietly, but stared with an icy intent towards the door as if patiently biding his time. But most days he slept.

And when he slept, he dreamed.

In the dark, boggy depths of unconsciousness, Newton’s memories mixed and folded one into another until they had become a slurry of the past. People and places overlaid on top of themselves haphazardly until Newton could no longer make heads or tails of who or where they were. He floated through forgotten times and events that didn’t belong to anyone with the distant aloofness of an uninvolved observer, or a time traveler slipping between layers of reality.

He simultaneously saw and didn’t see a parade of faces he could’ve sworn he’d once known. He encountered bowties and blue-tipped hair, gold teeth, dog tags and canes. Lots of canes. Dunes of wooden canes, stretching to the horizon. As he reached to touch one, they all fell away, breaking apart into millions of pale splinters like tiny bits of chalk. Newton watched as they drifted outward into the dark void above him, farther and farther away until they turned into distant stars.

The stars were nice. He didn’t dream about the sky often, at least as far as he could recollect. And that’s what this was, wasn’t it? A dream? It was hard to say. He felt himself sinking into the soft ground and looked down to find his feet buried in white sand. That was nice too. And there was water. But not the cold, dark water that birthed insidious creatures directly into his brain. No, this was warm and inviting water that came in alternating splashes of turquoise, violet and orange, and-

Wait. Something about this was familiar. Faint crackling sounds popped and hissed from behind him, and Newton couldn’t tell if he was feeling a sense of gut wrenching dread or a desperate sense of longing. Perhaps it was both. It overwhelmed him like the smell of burning wood that creeped into his nose and smoldered in his head. He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to see the fire or hear the clinking of glasses. He didn’t want to feel lips pulling away from his own forever into eternity, into the emptiness of time and space. But most of all he didn’t want to hear the words.

“To new beginnings.”

No.

“TO NEW BEGINNINGS.”

Don’t do this. Please.

“TONEWGBEINNIGS.”

Wha..? What is this?

“TNEWBEGTNNONS.”

I’m sorry I- I don’t understand this!

“TNEWGTONS!!”

Please! I can’t! I’m not str-

**“NEWTON!!”**

Newton’s eyes flew open and he gasped for breath like a drowning man breaking through to the surface of the sea. His vision blurred into splotches of color and painful light. He was aware of someone standing before him, face peering into his own, desperately seeking some kind of truth that Newton wasn’t sure if he held. But it was a nice face. Nice like the sand and the stars.

As Newton’s vision shifted slowly back into focus, he noticed the owner of the face was also the owner of a cane. He reached out weakly, determined despite how drained he felt. The effort seemed to last a lifetime, but after some initial faltering grasps, he touched it. To his immense relief it didn’t fly away into chalky fragments or break apart into the night sky. It was real. This was real. He was real.

As the haziness subsided from his brain like the dissipation of smoke from a dying fire doused in a flood of memories, Newton looked up. Eyes met eyes, and he held back tears. His voice was small and feeble, but he mustered a smile. Fingers tightened around his.

“Hermann. I’ve missed you, dude.”


End file.
